


just another one of the passerby people

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, But also, Car Accidents, Character Death, Cute, First Dates, Gay, I carnt spel, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meet-Cute, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Tragic Romance, modern?, really sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: john's observed that certain street performer from his tiny, family owned coffee shop for months now. how he bopped his head to the music he played and always kept a smile. his shaggy hair resembled that of the furry friend that accompanied him everyday.for months, john remained just a passerby. someone who simply saw that beautiful music man.once he's finally met this music man, he's sure his life's changed forever.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 40
Kudos: 82





	1. run for your life

John saw him everyday across the street from his little cafe. That gorgeous young man with big, joyous eyes and eyelashes that could reach the heavens. He always smiled at the passerby people, even if they didn’t even spare him a glance. Still, he played on and on with his old beat up guitar as his soft voice filled the air of the busy city street.

After a while, John started to notice the little things that maybe this particular street performer different. Not only did he have the most angelic smile John had ever seen, but he always seemed to bop his head along to the music. He didn’t look like he was just in it for the money like John had noticed in others, he was having fun. Playing for pleasure as well as making a quick buck while he was at it. 

John noticed his hair was always a bit shaggy, resembling the big dog that always accompanied him during his long days of strumming and singing. His sweaty skin always glistened under the sun after playing for a while. Still, that man never stopped playing.

John found himself staring dreamily at the man who was sat just across the street, strumming beautifully. Sadly, he could barely hear him over the buzz of the cafe. Just then, he was snapped out of his daze when Aunt Mimi was impatiently snapping her fingers in front of John’s face. John nodded, getting the message immediately. He rushed to start making the orders of the equally impatient customers. Though, John didn’t think anyone could ever match Mimi’s amount of impatience. HE chuckled and shook his head at the thought.

“Hey, Johnny!” John heard the cheery, deep voice of one of his closest friends. 

A smile came to his lips as his eyes fell upon the shorter man, Richard Starkey. “‘Ello, Ritchie!” He replied, leaning against the counter. “Where’s George at today?” 

John knew George and Richard to constantly be together. Hell, they were even roommates! But no matter how many times John even slightly suggested that they were together, the pair would get defensive, usually hollering at John for even thinking such a thing could happen between the two. Of course, this always brought a smirk to John’s lips and further raised his suspicions. 

“Oh, you know, lagging behind as usual. Got distracted by that guitarist ‘cross the street. Went to go talk to him, I suppose.” Ringo replied, turning his head as John began making the last order that was made before Ringo came and threw off his rhythm. 

John just hummed as a response, glancing up over his glasses to look out the window. There he was, George Harrison standing above the sitting man, probably talking his head off. John couldn’t help but notice how George drew a smile that was surely a laugh from the man. He tried to ignore the tinge of jealousy he felt at that. He wanted to be the one to bring one of those award winning smiles to the street performer.

He was quick to shake the thought away. He didn’t even know him, how could John be upset about George making him smile?

“You’d think he’d be a bit faster considering he’s one ‘is way to get a bite to eat.” Ringo scoffed with a playful roll of his eyes. 

John chuckled, setting the drink down on the counter, calling out the name for the order before going back to speaking with Richard. He opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted by the little bell on the door that was there to notify him and Mimi of an incoming customer. John bit his lip, looking to see if it was George and hopefully the pretty man. John felt a twinge of disappointment when he saw that it was just George who entered the small cafe. 

“‘Ello, mate!” George greeted with a smile once he’d gotten up to the counter.

From the side, Richard observed George’s toothy grin that always showed off his ol’ british gnashers with pride. He felt a soft smile raise the corner of his lips before he looked away, a light pink blush blooming on his cheeks. Hopefully he could just blame this little mishap on the warmth of the cafe blended with the summer heat.

Without even responding to the greeting with a simple “hello”, John got right down to business. “Who’s ‘at you were jus’ talking to?” he asked, grabbing a fresh towel from under the counter to start wiping down a few spills.

George rolled his eyes, deciding not to complain about John’s quite rude introduction. “I don’t know. Just met the poor guy, didn’t I?” he replied. “Now make me a drink, would ya? I’m thirsty as hell!”

“Coffee won’t do anything for thirst, Georgie.” Richard chuckled, shaking his head at the younger man. 

“Well, it’s a liquid, innit?” George retorted, wrinkling his nose up at Richard. Richard just laughed at George’s childish logic, looking back at John before speaking his response.

“Whatever floats your boat, luv.” That statement made a smirk break out onto John’s lips as George’s eyes widened. Richard knew exactly what he did. George absolutely hated it when Richard said something that might even hint at a romantic relationship between the two of them in front of John. And with a big breath, George continued their bickering while John watched intently.

But after a bit of that, Richard waved off a pouting George and went back to talking with John. “Why do you want to know who is anyway?” he asked, taking one of the drinks that John had taken the liberty of making while he and George had been going at it. 

“I don’t know. Looks like he plays well, right George?” John asked, looking over to the younger who was busy taking a sip from his drink. Richard and John had always been puzzled on how George could drink something so sugary and rarely get a stomach ache. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty good, I’d say.” George nodded. He noticed his whipped cream moustache and quickly looked over at Richard, making a silly face. Silently, Richard cursed George for being as cute as he was. Really, he wanted that man all to himself, but he was never sure if their flirty antics had mutual feelings involved or if it was just friendly play. Before he knew it, he realized he’d been staring at George who was now snapping his fingers, still sporting his fake moustache. 

Richard snapped back to reality, shaking off his trance before smiling at George. “You okay, Ringo?” the youngest of the group asked, real concern in his voice. He peered at Richard with worried eyes and his bushy eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got lost in my thoughts is all.” Richard replied, trying to ignore the use of the silly nickname George had given him in high school. That surely put the cherry on top of his love stricken distress.

“Well anyway,” John cut in, his eyes moving between the two awkwardly. “Did you happen to get his name? Number?” He asked.

This caused George to come off the topic of Richard fairly quickly to look over at John amusedly. “Do you have eyes for Street Performer Paul?” He asked with an excited giggle.

“Ooh, Georgie, I think he does!” Richard laughed.

“I do not! If he’s gonna play in front of my store, I may as well know his name, right?” John defended, a small blush rising to his face. Of course, he’d been intrigued by the cute man, but never believed in “love at first sight”. He’d never even spoken to the man! 

Both George and Ringo’s faces fell at an instant. “John, he sits across the street. Technically, he’s playing in front of that old record store. That store clerk should be the one to worry about who in the world that man is.” Richard deadpanned.

“And if I do recall correctly, you didn’t even say hullo to me today! You just wanted to know about Paul.” George nodded, taking another drink from his cup of pure sugar, simply adding to the little moustache he was building over his lips.

“Oh, and you just indirectly asked for his number as well.” Richard continued.

Now it was their turn to smirk at a red faced John Lennon. Before he could get a word in though, Mimi was already shouting scoldings at John for letting himself get distracted. 

“Well we should be off now, shouldn’t we Ringo?” George asked with a satisfied smile. 

“Of course, Georgie.” Richard nodded, taking a few steps from the counter. “We’ll see you later, Johnny!” he laughed as they began walking out of the cafe, feeling John annoyed glare burning holes in the back of their heads. 

They never seemed to pay for their drinks. Friends discount, right?

Once they’d gotten out the door, Richard stopped as an idea sparked in his head. He looked over at a confused George with a playful smile. 

“What is it, Ringo?” George asked, frowning. He was still a little bothered by Richard’s odd behavior a bit earlier with the whole spacing out thing. 

“You’ve got something on your face. Here, let me get it off.” Richard said, reaching toward George’s face. Before the younger could object, Richard had swiped his thumb just above George’s lips, wiping away his whipped cream moustache. With a smirk, Richard lifted his thumb up to his mouth and licked the sweet substance off before heading off down the sidewalk. 

George froze in his spot, his eyes widening at what Richard had done. He watched helplessly as the older walked off as if what he’d done was just casual. It was a few moments of trying to process what had just happened before he scurried on after Richard. Together, they continued their aimless walk down the busy city sidewalk, the sound of Paul The Music Man’s voice filling the air around them. Together, they were just another few of the passerby people. 

  
  
  



	2. i've just seen a face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an apology is said, a karen is seen in her natural habitat, and paul‘a just trying to survive

Richard kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk in front of them as they walked, feeling the little beads of anxious sweat starting to form on his forehead. Every now and again he glanced over at George who seemed to be contemplating his life choices. He could feel a small smile tug at the corners of his lips at the mere sight of George. Quickly, he’d force his lips down into an unintentional frown. He couldn’t help but wonder what in the world had gotten into him that day.

George absolutely couldn’t bear it. The silence was too powerful, too strong. And it was crushing him to bits. In those slowest minutes of his life, George hated himself for being so quiet all the time. If he’d just trained himself to speak like a normal person, maybe he wouldn’t be in this awkward situation. Still, his silence didn’t keep him from stealing glances at Richard.

In one awkward moment, Richard and George looked at eachother. Their eyes met, needy for the image of the other. Both faces flushed and they looked away with tiny smiles resting on their lips.

Finally interrupting the deadly silence, Richard spoke. “Do ya wanna go to that record shop? Maybe we can even talk John up a little.” he laughed, thinking back to John’s denial of finding the man across the street just a little bit cute. 

George forced his own laugh as he nodded along. 

Hearing the flat sound of a forced laugh, Richard’s smile faltered just a bit. “Listen, Georgie, I’m sorry. I was just playing around.” Was he? He didn’t think so. To Richard, that simple act seemed almost natural. “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything.” That was true. He wouldn't do anything to make his Geo uncomfortable on purpose. _ His _ Geo. Something else that sounded all too real to not be true.

George stared at Richard for another few awkwardly silent moments. “It’s okay, Ringo. I just needed to hear from you that it wasn't.. wasn’t real.” God, why did that hurt to say?

“Alright, then. Now that that’s been settled, record shop?” Richard replied with a hopeful smile. 

“Record shop.” George confirmed with a nod and a real smile. With another sip of his drink George started in the direction of the small store across the street. 

Richard instantly wrinkled his nose up at George, following his actions to turn around and go back to the record shop. “How can you even drink that stuff?”

“Because I didn’t burn my taste buds off with bitter black coffee.” George replied, not even sparing a glance at Richard. He simply just smirked at his comeback and continued on walking toward the music that was being played. A faster song came up and his voice filled the air once again with the fast plucking of strings.

“I’ve just seen a face, I can’t forget the time or place where we just me-” The playing stopped abruptly just when George had begun smiling at the song. He blinked and looked over at Richard curiously, the other just shrugging. As they approached the store, they saw the cause for the abrupt and odd stop to the music. 

In front of Paul stood a woman, scolding him for playing so loudly and disrupting her walk. Paul simply stared up at her through his eyelashes. He stayed silent as a frown set on his lips. To finish her rant, a full kick to his guitar case sent his money blowing down the street. “Have a nice day, miss.” he said shakily, taking his guitar off and setting it into its case. 

Leaving Richard behind a few steps, George rushed over to his new acquaintance, asking him what had happened. Even if it was obvious what happened, he thought it might be best for Paul to say it out loud instead of letting his hurt build up inside of him. Paul silently stood from his usual criss cross position on the ground, and made a kissy sound with his lips to alert his dog it was time to get up and start walking.

“Listen, George, is it?” Paul asked, though he didn’t give the younger any time to reply. “I’d love to keep talking to you, you seem like a very lovely guy, but I’ve got to find somewhere else to play. My rent’s due soon and all that money was supposed to help pay.” He said shakily, fighting to keep his composure and his tears well hidden. Martha nudged his hand, sensing her owner’s sadness. “I have to go.” he said again before turning and swiftly walking down the street, his big, shaggy sheepdog in tow. 

George watched helplessly as Paul walked away, dodging others as they came. He turned his head to look at Richard who shook his head. “It’s none of our business, Georgie. If he wanted help, I’m sure he would’ve asked.” He had a hard time believing his own words once again. After watching that encounter unfold, this stranger didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to ask for help and show weakness like that. “Let’s just shop a little. We’ve nothing else to do, have we?  Let’s not spend our time worrying about someone you’ve just met, okay?” He continued, reaching to open the door for George who’s already turned his head to look at the fleeing Paul again.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday mornings were always John’s favorite time of the week. People usually weren’t off to usual business jobs, so there were less customers. Of course there was always the few groups of friends and families that came in for a quick bite and drink before spending their day in the city. While he was tidying up behind the counter, the bell on the door rang quietly and in came a wild George and a sleepy Richard. 

“Jesus, George, would you just give it up already? We don’t even know the lad! I bet he’s not coming back any time soon after what that bitter lady did!” Richard finally snapped at George after nearly an hour of him obsessing over some stranger he’d met the day before.  _ Paul _ . That’s all he heard about since George and Paul's second little encounter.  _ ‘Oh I’m so worried about Paul.. Do you think Paul’s okay?.. Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul!’  _

Ah, of course. With every Sunday morning came the old married couple themselves, Richard and George, always bickering about something or other. “Can you two hush? Ruin the peace, you two do.” John sighed, scooping sugar from the paper bag into the tall jar.

__

“It’s  _ your _ crush he’s fussing about.” Ringo replied with a roll of his eyes, earning a dirty look from George.

__

“What’s that mean?” John asked, quirking an eyebrow at the pair. 

__

“Hmm.. let’s think, John,” George began sarcastically. “Do you notice anything odd across the street?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at John. George himself didn’t understand why he was so upset about this stranger. He was only a street performer, George saw those all the time! So, what was so special about this one was beyond George. He just had a feeling about this guy that something  _ fit _ . That he was  _ meant  _ to meet Paul the Music Man. 

__

John raised his eyes to look out the window, searching for something different. Then it hit him. John had seen that beautiful boy everyday for  _ months  _ where had he gone off to on this random Sunday? John furrowed his eyebrows, searching to see if he was just further up the street than normal. But no, he wasn’t there. He was  _ missing _ . 

__

“See? This lady got mad at him for playing his guitar and kicked his case over and all his money fell out! Then he started to cry because apparently that’s as supposed to help him pay for his rent and now it gone!” George said, his worry growing with every one of his words.

__

“God..” John whispered, feeling a slight sadness creep up his back, ready to hop up and weigh his shoulders down. 

__

“I still don’t see how you two can be so upset. You don’t even know him!” Richard butt in, making George wave him off. At this point George was sure Richard’s sour mood was thanks to George waking him up earlier than usual by accident. Richard was just a little cranky is all. 

__

John was just about to speak again when the little bell on the door rang once again. He looked past George to see  _ him _ . John’s lips fell apart, staring at Paul. He looked even more like a doll, standing awkwardly in the doorway. His hair was shaggy and a bit unkempt as John usually had observed. 

__

Paul’s big eyes met John’s, his lips slightly parted as he took a breath before speaking. “Am I allowed to bring my dog in here?”

_  
  
  
  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh is ringo jEaLoUs??👀
> 
> i got a few comments concerning the tags on the last chapter and i'd like to let everyone know that i always care about everyone's comments! i'm thinking about changing my plans and finding different ways to weasle just a little bit of angst into the story ;)  
> but i can assure y'all that when i finally decide, the tags will be changed, so keep watch of those if you're staying with the story! 
> 
> my favorite mclennon fic was just discontinued until further notice :')  
> how're y'all today?


	3. martha my dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d i s a p p o i n t m e n t .
> 
> martha brings people together as dogs should.

John glanced at his two friends, eyes slightly widened. This was odd to him. Why today of all the days in the months that John had seen Paul, did Paul decide to buy something today? He must've noticed the quaint little cafe across from where he played, how had he never once bothered to stop by? 

George and Richard stared at John with expectant eyes, almost silently demanding an answer. John’s eyes traveled back to a hesitant Paul, one who must’ve gotten uncomfortable with the long silence and odd looks because he was slowly backing away from the door. “Sorry, no.” He answered, shaking his head. 

George would’ve slapped John right across the face if it weren’t for the few others in the shop. “Are you stupid?! Have you gone bloody mad?!” He whisper-shouted at John before quickly turning on his heel. “Paul, if you would please wait, I’d really love to talk to you more.” George said as he walked to the door. 

Paul shook his head, briskly turning and starting up the street. George was quick to follow, leaving John and Richard behind to watch him embarrass himself by following a stranger like mad throughout the city. “I think he’s the one who’s gone bloody mad. Of course, I love helping out the homeless and such, but there’s a line between being nice and being stalkerish.” Richard sighed, picking at his cuticles as he spoke.

Meanwhile, Paul finally turned around to face George. “Can I help you?” He asked nervously. No matter how much he wanted to, Paul couldn’t bear being harsh with his words. It just wasn’t in his softer nature. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please stop following me.” 

George nodded, simply just pulling out an old receipt from his pocket and a mini pencil he’d stolen from some shop. “Could I have your number? I just want to help you, okay? Maybe tomorrow you can come without your dog, my friend and I go to that cafe all the time.” He said, holding the two things out for Paul to take from him.

Paul eyed the other nervously, letting his thoughts process. He knew better than to trust a stranger like this. While his brain was busy thinking about how much he’d regret giving his number to the man who’d just followed him up the street, Paul had taken the paper and pencil. Slowly, he wrote his number down before returning George’s things shakily. 

“See you tomorrow then?” George asked with a small smile.

Paul bit his lip nervously before hesitantly nodding. He really wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he figured there was no going back now. This stranger named George had his phone number and now trusted that Paul would come back tomorrow without his dear Martha. Without another word, Paul turned away and left, leaving George to stand and stare at him with confusion.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul jostled his keys in his hands as he walked. Late a _ gain _ . At this point he was sure he’d get fired sooner or later for his odd absences from work for the first 5-10 minutes of his shift. He had no excuses for all the times he was missing. Just too busy worrying about being late to actually focus on getting to work on time.

“Finally decide to show your face, Macca?” Stuart sneered from behind the counter. It was obvious the man was trying to look busy to avoid being asked to do anything else, like clean the stage before the nighttime rush came through the bar. 

Paul simply rolled his eyes and he stepped through the little swinging door that separated his little safe spot behind the counter and the rest of the bar. Maybe if Pete and Stuart weren’t there to make fun of Paul all night, his job would be a little more pleasant. If making drinks for old men who loved to eye the younger boys of the gay bar was anything to even consider pleasant. 

Of course, just because the three weren’t exactly fond of eachother, they still had to stick together, so maybe it wasn’t entirely bad. Paul was thankful for the amount of times one of the others would step in when a particularly cranky man was denied a “fun night”. They had sort of a brother bond. Didn’t get along always, but they protected each other, and that’s what matters, right?

“Don’t you have anything else to do besides rub the same glass with a dirty rag?” Paul said, eyeing Stuart with a sly smile.

Business was rather slow on Sunday nights. Really only groups of friends came for a short drink before the week started, but no one came to get drunk on these nights. No one really wants to start the week off with a wicked hangover. As rare as it usually was, Paul was secretly throwing back shots whenever he got the chance, trying to get rid of that bad feeling at the bottom of his stomach that he’d done something wrong.

Paul had never never really been a fan of alcohol since when he was younger when his father used it as an escape from the real world. The real world of pain he lived in after his wife had passed away. The real world of nervous looks from his sons after he woke up the next day and saw the bruises he’d left on their bodies. 

Pete and Stuart shared looks throughout the night, both unsure if they were seeing things right. Paul,  _ their Paul _ , was drinking the night away while on the job. Together they watched as Paul began to shakily make an order while he was stumbling around, grabbing the complete wrong ingredients for a drink and then knocking it over, dropping both the expensive bottle of vodka and the odd drink he made. The sound of the glass shattering made Paul jump back. Pete was already stepping over the glass and pulling Paul away from it so he wouldn’t make any more mistakes in his tipsy state. 

“Alright, what’s your problem, ay? You just cost us a whole lot of money, you know that?” Pete asked, searching the shorter’s face for any sign of remorse or  _ anything _ . Instead, he was only met with Paul’s flushed face, watery laughs, and glassy eyes. 

“Was thinkin’ of my father.” He answered simply, tilting his head back until it was resting on the wall. The whole reason he’d started drinking had gone out the window and other thoughts invaded his mind. 

Pete sighed and glanced back at Stuart who was sweeping up the glass and drying the floor with a few towels. “Listen, Paul, you can’t keep thinking about him. That part of your life is over. You shouldn’t be in his dirty little bar. You have so much going for you.” Pete said softly. He knew his words were just going through one ear and out the other, but it was something he’d been meaning to say to the younger. 

Paul just hiccuped, brushing off Pete’s comments like they were nothing. “Now, you can’t be drunk at work. I’m taking you home.” Pete continued, grabbing his coat from the cat rack. He ignored their boss’s protests, simply waving him off as he held Paul close to his side. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning was a nightmare. Well, Paul had gotten up too late first of all. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if George and his friends had given up on him ever coming. Just as Paul was slowly rising from his bed, the phone in his kitchen started to ring its shrill noise. With a yawn, Paul pulled himself off the bed and made his way through his dingy apartment to get to the phone.

Nearly yanking the whole thing off the wall, Paul lifted the phone from where it hung from its little cradle. “Hello?” he asked, his voice raw from sleep. 

“Yes, hello? Is this Paul?” The voice on the other line was recognizable, but he wasn’t exactly sure who it could be. Paul tried to rub the drowsiness from his eyes but it was no use, he was still sleepy as can be.

“Yes, and this is?” He asked, leaning against the wall to rest his head. 

“George. Remember me? We were supposed to meet for coffee today.. Aren’t you coming?” The voice spoke again. Paul’s eyes widened immediately. They waited for him?

“Yes, I just woke up late, I’ll be getting ready now. Bye-bye.” He said quickly before hanging up. A big smile formed on his face despite the headache that was starting to creep up on him. This man was nice. Paul was just going to have to warm up to the idea of having more than two friends. If that’s even what George wanted. Did George even want to be friends? It didn’t make sense for him to get Paul’s number and actually  _ expect  _ him if he didn’t want to build some kind of relationship. At least to Paul it didn't make sense. 

With all these thoughts bouncing sporadically about his mind, Paul threw on a simple white t-shirt and jeans. He hummed a tune to himself as he tightened a belt around his waist and slipped on some shoes. He glanced at himself in the mirror, rolling his eyes at his messy hair. Stopping his rush, he picked up his little, old comb and pulled his through his hair. Soon enough, most of the knots in his hair were gone and he could leave his bedroom without a second thought.

Martha padded into the little bathroom where Paul stood, brushing his teeth. She looked up at him, making a small whining noise to make her presence known. Just by how Paul was acting all rushed, she knew something was up. And she was right. Just a few minutes later, Paul was out the door after placing a kiss atop her head and saying his goodbyes to her.

It was a little strange, honestly. Leaving the house during the day without his dog. It was a new lonely feeling in the pit of his stomach. Every now and then on his walk to the cafe, he’d look about himself for Martha, only to have to remind himself has she was safe and sound back at home.

Meanwhile, George sat at a lone table, looking out the window for a familiar figure. He’d come alone instead of with Richard. He didn’t want to overwhelm Paul like he had the days before. He figured he’d ease poor Paul into the friend group. Of course only if he accepted to even be one of their friends. 

His fingers tapped the wooden table nervously. Even after the call, he wasn’t completely reassured that Paul was coming. John’s little comments didn’t help either.

George raised his eyebrows to the door when the little bell rang. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Paul’s doe eyes looking around the cafe for a sign of the man he was supposed to be meeting. With a smile, George waved and welcomed Paul over to the table.

Paul forcibly raised the corners of his lips into a smile as he walked over to George. During his walk from home, his headache grew while nausea bloomed inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was from, but he hated it. Hated this hazy, disgusting feeling. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten home from work last night.. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know you guys were expecting john and paul to meet this chapter :)
> 
> also! i've been forgetting to add this to the notes, but i have an instagram where i post updates about the story! so, if there something like a chapter delay, like this one, i'd have it up on there rather than on here. of course, that doesn't that all updates will slip past those who don't have instagram or something. if something comes up where i won't be able to post or y'know something else drastic like that, it will surely be posted on here.
> 
> i just recall saying that this chapter would be up on tuesday or wednesday, but it's thurday. so, the account is just there to let y'all know i'm not dead or anything
> 
> so, if you'd like to follow, the @ is bb.its.u
> 
> have a wonderful rest of your day/night!
> 
> also, i love responding to everyone's comments, so keep them coming! <3


	4. jealous guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jealousy is a force to be reckoned with. when mixed with a broken heart, you've got yourself a flask of poison.

John could tell there was something wrong with this Paul guy the second the two approached the counter. He seemed unsteady on his feet and he was quietly making little gasps for air. He could barely pay attention to George’s complicated order of sugary trash when it was quite obvious his new friend was growing more and more pale by the second. “Are you okay?” He blurted out, interrupting George.

“Yes, John, I-” George started before the realization dawned on him. He wasn’t alone. He was with Paul who John was watching carefully. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. ‘M fine.” Paul replied, quickly snapping out of his trance. The daze he was in that was helping him ignore the growing pain in his stomach broke at the sound of John’s voice. It all came rushing back to him.. And fast. 

John just let it be instead of interrogating a stranger about his health. George simply brushed John’s concern off, though his eyes were also trained concernedly on Paul’s ever pale face. Within a few silent moments, George broke it by finishing off his order of a “coffee” that probably had enough sugar to fit into five candy bars and two blueberry muffins. He bought one for Richard for later. He knew he could always get a little hungry after work. George brushed that thought off, looking over to Paul.

Paul was back to staring into space before he snapped back to reality when he felt two pairs of eyes on him once again. “O-oh. Um.. I’ll just have a hazelnut coffee, two creams, please.” He said, giving yet another uncomfortable smile. 

“Take notes, Georgie.” John smirked at the slightly taller of the two in front of him. “He’s got a simple order and you drone on forever about which direction you want your ‘coffee’ stirred.” He chuckled, leaving the counter to start making the drinks and get away from George who was sure to retaliate with a slap on John’s arm if he didn’t get away fast enough.

With the first sip, Paul knew he should have just gotten water or tea to calm his stomach. But no, he just  _ had  _ to get something that made him feel worse. Still, he endured a conversation with George, listening to him talk. Half the time, he’d tuned George out to question to himself why the lights in the little store seemed to get brighter. 

George soon pulled Paul back to reality with a question. “So, do you have any roommates?” God, how long had he been talking? Ten minutes? Just about his roommate?

“Uh.. no, but I have a couple friends who stay over sometimes.” Paul replied. “Guess it’s kind of a shame my only friends are my coworkers.” He forced a chuckle out. Ah, making fun of his own pain. That was definitely a good conversation piece.

“Oh, well, I could be your friend too, y’know.” George smiled, pulling his number out of his pocket. He’d written it down before he came, just in case he wanted to give his number to Paul in return for their exchange the day before. Sliding the paper forward, he spoke. “You can call me anytime you like.”

Oddly enough, that brought a smile to Paul’s lips. “Thank you..” He said softly, stuffing the slip of paper into his pocket. It meant a lot more to him than he thought it would. He wasn’t sure why this stranger cared so much about him but it felt good to have someone who cared about him who wasn’t Stuart or Pete. They were more like brothers rather than friends. Even though he had a real brother, they drifted apart after the younger moved away with his aunt, leaving Paul to endure the torture Jim McCartney put his children through. 

Pushing those memories away, Paul forced himself to be present in the conversation. Every now and then he let his eyes wander the cafe until they landed on the restroom. His stomach gurgled with another cramp, nausea crashing down upon Paul once again. “I’m sorry..” He nearly whispered, rising from his seat. He rushed to the loo with his hand over his mouth as if that would hold in the vomit that was traveling up the back of his throat as quick as it could.

Paul pushed the door open and let his knees buckle in front of a toilet. He emptied all the old alcohol from his system, heaving over the bowl. He barely had any time to breathe each time his stomach decided to empty itself. By the end, his stomach was tired, the muscles feeling all worn out.

Meanwhile, John was watching the door, listening to the noises that came from the restroom.  _ ‘That poor man’  _ he thought to himself, shaking his head. _ ‘Wonder why he came while he was ill _ ’ He glanced over to where George sat, still looking a bit stunned after Paul left to the restroom so abruptly.

Minutes later, Paul shamefully walked out of the loo. His eyes remained glued to his feet as he trudged back to the table. “I’m going to ring my other friend to pick me up and take me home.” Paul said softly, his voice a little scratchy.

George nodded, giving in a half smile. John set a plastic cup on the table in front of Paul, looking down at him with a bit of sympathy. Paul’s eyes wandered up to meet John’s through those long lashes of his, making John’s breath hitch again. God, what was it about this man that made John so uneasy? “Water.” He stated simply, his voice cracking just slightly as he gestured toward the cup. 

“Ta.” Paul smiled, reaching forward and taking a tiny sip from the cup.

_ ‘Damn. I should’ve given him a straw- Jesus, John, get your mind out of the gutter!’  _ The angel and devil in John’s mind argued. He looked away, feeling heat rise to his face. 

Paul pulled his phone from his pocket and John watched in secret as Paul’s fingers danced across the screen, dialing someone’s boyfriend. Jealousy sparked in him suddenly. Paul was too pretty to be single. He must be calling his lover to pick him up.. Oh what would John give to be someone to this music man. 

George smirked, watching John from the corner of his eye. He knew it. John undoubtedly felt  _ something _ for Paul. That blush on his cheeks told a lot about how he felt. 

Meanwhile, Paul was speaking into the phone, his soft voice gently serenading John. 

“Yeah, I’m across the street from that record shop where I play. The cafe. -- Pete, it’s not a bad neighborhood. -- Can you just pick me up? -- I have a headache and I just..” Paul paused, looking at the pair before him. “I just threw up.” Really, it was no secret but still, he whispered that part. “Okay. Thanks. Bye-bye.” 

“So, you have a ride home?” George asked, earring a nod and hum from Paul. 

George and Paul sat in an awkward silence after John had traveled back to his spot behind the counter after some customers had entered. Paul looked away for a moment, contemplating if he was going to break the silence. Moments later, the words came pouring out before he could stop and think about them “It was really nice meeting you. I’d love to hang out with you guys sometime.”

George stopped himself from pumping his fist in the air. He’d won Paul over and he was  _ very _ proud to say the least. Only the rest of the day to go before he could brag to Richard about it and be able to prove him wrong. “Yes! I can talk to Ringo and John later about handing out.” He smiled happily. 

For the next few minutes George did most of the conversing while Paul gave simple input despite his major headache pounding the sides of his head when he spoke. Those minutes ended when a man showed up in the cafe, looking the exact opposite of someone Paul would ahng out with. The taller was dressed in black jeans, a pair of black tennis shoes, accompanied by an old band tee topped with a blcak leather jacket. John couldn’t help but stare when he strutted over to Paul who rose from his seat at the sight of this “Pete” guy. His jealousy grew a little more every second that man had his hands on Paul. 

The way his arm wrapped around Paul’s shoulder, making long strides compared to Pauls’s small, quickened steps to keep up with the taller man made John purse his lips and tense his shoulders. Paul gave one last wave to his new friends before scurrying out with Pete.

George jumped up from his seat and walked to the counter with a big smirk resting on his lips. John dreaded the conversation that was about to happen. He just  _ knew _ George would have something to say about those hitched breaths and flushed cheeks.

“Oh,  _ come on _ . You _ cannot _ tell me you don’t have a crush on him.” George giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Don’t you have a drink and a couple muffins to look after? I’d stay close to them before Mimi throws them out.” John replied, trying to keep his cool as much as possible, pretending to look busy on the register so George would just leave him alone.

“At least tell me if you think he’s cute.”

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

A gasp emitted from George at John’s answer. “ _ Really? _ ”

“Go away.” John sighed with a soft smile, shooing George away from the counter. “I gave you your stupid answer, now you can leave me alone.” He said, while George smiled about how Richard would react once he told him all this crazy news once they were both home.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i do oneshots😳  
> i have ideas for queen, the rolling stones, and the beatles👀
> 
> i know i said at some point that the next chapter would be up in the next one or two days, but this was ready before i knew it, so here ya go! i have no schedule at all so my updating is very chaotic-


	5. goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> george might be psychic, ringo's not sure how to feel, paul's got a bit of a broken heart, and john participates in a dangerous game; thinking.

George had a good eye for things that were meant to be. He always found it odd that he could feel certain things on a spiritual level. Like how that particular guitar playing Paul was meant to be his friend. That’s how the universe planned it to be. 

Of course, as with every expert, things slip past. Even when something is obvious, and right under their nose, they seem completely oblivious to it.

George didn’t get why every time he and Richard touched, he felt a spark ignite on his skin. A spark that ate up him up until he was drowning in a feeling of fireworks all over his body. He wasn’t sure why he could never take his eyes off of Richard’s cheery smile. Never had a clue why his hands always floated dangerously closer to Richard’s when they were walking side by side. 

He and Richard were just friends. That had been established long ago when George himself said so to John when the three had just met during their first year of high school. Even if it sounded a little strange on his lips, he went with it. They were just friends. Just friends who just so happened to love each other just a little too much without the other knowing. Hell, they didn’t even know themselves how much they cared about the other!

It was casual for them to curl up on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other, and talk about their day. It was an understatement to say that George enjoyed how Richard laughed when he’d explained that John had admitted to thinking Paul was cute. 

They’d talked and talked until George’s eyes were fluttering closed and staying closed for a few moments before opening. Each time his eyes reopened, he’d realize that his hot chocolate that had gone cold a while ago was nearly pouring out onto his lap. 

“Welp, we should get to sleep, shouldn’t we?” Richard sighed, moving his hands to his lap. 

“Aye.” George nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He got up with a sigh, stretching a bit before moving to their tiny kitchen to wash out his mug. George was still smiling to himself while the water poured from the faucet into his mug, flushing all the chocolaty liquid out.

Once he’d cleaned everything up, he flicked the light off and stepped out into the hall, walking across the carpet to get to his bedroom. Just as his hand rested on the knob to open his bedroom door, Richard clapped his hand on George’s shoulder. Those sparks lit his skin aflame as shivers ran up and down his spine in excitement. He whipped around, his face a little too close to Richard’s.

“Woah. Easy there, Georgie. It's just me.” Richard said softly. George could hear the smile in his voice, making his expression soften. He fought the magnetic feeling that Ringo’s lips had with his, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

“Right.” George nodded, turning his head away from Richard. Turning the knob, George pushed his door open. “Goodnight, Ringo.” And with that, George was in his room, and Richard had a closed door in his face. 

Richard stared hard at the door, as if it would open upon his mind’s command. Within a few moments, he let out a soft sigh and dragged his feet to his bedroom. Having already completed all his nighttime duties, Ringo flopped down on his bed. His hands folded over his stomach while he stared up at his glow in the dark stars that stuck to the ceiling. Heaving a few breaths, Ringo let his eyes flutter closed.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That same night, John found himself sketching in his little notebook. It took a bit for his sleepy mind to realize, but those doe eyes on the little man on his paper was none other than Paul’s. John rolled his eyes, slamming his book closed. He tossed it to the side and turned his back to the rest of the room, pouting. 

This man had plagued his mind greatly and John wasn’t sure just how he should feel about it. Of course, he saw attractive customers everyday, but maybe the months of listening to Paul’s faint voice from across the street had rotted his brain. Paul was probably a witch and put spells on people to make them fall in love with him.

No.. Paul probably attracted people of all kinds with those doll eyes and round cheeks. John’s fist squeezed his pillow with all his might, but it was no use. No amount of punching, pushing, or squeezing would ever get rid of these blasted butterflies and his ever beating heart. 

He simply couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that Paul had a boyfriend. A tough looking one at that. Tall and slim. And he seemed to have a protective nature by the way he tucked Paul closely into his side. A sigh escaped John’s lips. Just thinking about Paul made his heart ache with want. 

He shook his head, burying his face into the pillow next to his fist. It was probably because Paul was so obviously taken that John wanted him. But still, he’d always had Paul in the back of his mind since the first few days of his arrival on the street. 

God, he’d met Paul  _ once _ , barely even that, and  _ this _ was the state he’d put John into. It was hard for John to believe, really. That one single person could make him feel and overthink this much.

Somehow John had managed to drift off to sleep with all those thoughts buzzing about his mind. Paul lingered in his mind all night, wandering freely around his thoughts.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul sat slumped in a corner of his couch, tapping the tip of his pen against a page in his notebook, wracking his brain for new lyrics. He wanted a new song to come to him -- it was getting kind of boring playing the same few of his songs until he had to switch to Elvis or Buddy Holly. He figured he was not only boring himself but the record store manager who had long ago stopped trying to shoo Paul away. He would always end up coming back the next day anyway.

Paul gave up trying to think of lyrics about his new friends and tried to clear his mind. Digging into his memories of people and places, Paul came across that pretty girl with pretty red hair that always smelled like strawberries. 

Long ago they’d broken up when Jane’s love for him was clouded by her want for fame. A man who relied on his looks to get himself through life was surely not what she wanted. Paul hadn’t had all that money to get into college and do something that would get him lots of money. He just wasn’t one of the lucky people he longed to be. 

Paul was left with nothing but a guitar and a dog after Jane had packed her things and went off to Hollywood, saying it was the only way she’d ever get fame. If she didn’t live in some expensive, glamorous place, she wouldn’t get noticed. In Liverpool, no one would see her talent. At least, that was her twisted logic.

Paul glared at the paper as if it would give him some sort of idea just by looking at it. Now with thoughts full of heartbreak, he  _ had  _ to come up with something. But it was no use. It was time he should be off to work anyway. Now he was just going to have another sad night serving drinks and actually trying to stay away from throwing back a couple shots. Never again would he make the mistake of drinking too much at work again, and he’d promised himself that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda gave up at paul's part. i wanted to post but getting through paul's section of the chapter was something i just  
> r e a l l y didn't wanna do, so it's kind of a mess :')
> 
> i mean, i could have gone without writing for paul put i just wanted to give at least little bit of perspective to each of the boys  
> ringo just barely got a paragraph about himself so-


	6. i don't want to spoil the party (so i'll go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john doesn't know how to peacefully feel emotions

It’d been almost a few weeks after George and Paul’s little meetup. He came around every now and then to say hello or quickly grab a coffee while his dog obediently sat outside, peering at Paul through the window. John hated it when Paul came around, flaunting himself casually as if he and John were just friends that had known each other a while. Of course, it was good that Paul was comfortable around John, but for John, Paul was just making himself seem more and more untouchable, therefore, more and more irresistible. 

Now, it was just Ringo and George hanging out at the counter, distracting John while Mimi was bustling around, making everything ten times harder than it needed to be, as always. There was no doubt about it that something was bothering the man. He consistently held a scowl on his mouth, his eyes casting a deathly glare on whatever they landed on.

“What’s the stick so far up yer arse, eh John?” Richard finally inquired after silently watching John nearly break the cash box on the register.

  
“Who’s that _bitch_ , Pete, Paul was on about the other day?” John asked, his voice sharp. It was true. Paul’s mind had been on his other friends a few days ago and George was left to just watch Paul obliviously jab John in the heart repeatedly.

“That’s some strong language, Johnny.” George remarked, his mouth full with a big bite of a scone. John let out a loud huff of breath while Richard simply stood and watched as John’s face grew more and more red by the second. “John, listen. Why won’t you just admit you've got feeli-”

George was immediately interrupted by John who’d just gotten a little more pissed off by the younger’s words. “Because I don't!”

Richard took that moment to chime in. “Oh, come  _ on _ ! You’re about as good as a walnut at hiding your feelings! You're jealous of his friend!  _ Friend _ , John. Really?”

“I don’t like him, Richie. He’s stupid, annoying, ugly, and-” John dropped his head into his hands with a loud groan. “And so,  _ so _ beautiful.” He breathed the last word, peeking up from his hands to watch the wide grins that spread upon his friend's faces.

“ _ Well _ . I’ve made plans with Paul for us all to hang out tonight. All four of us.” George said with a proud smirk resting on his lips. Rolling his eyes, at the voices that replied “What?” in unison. “Yeah! He said he really wanted to get to know us better and all that. Plus, it’s a Friday night! We can go out to one of those clubs or something.” He shrugged looking to the other’s for a response. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite John’s very many objections, George was in his bedroom, dressing him in something he thought was suitable for their plans. Really, it wasn’t hard to find casual party clothes in John’s closet. He was probably the most outgoing of the three of them! Just the idea of having to go out with his  _ crush _ stuck uncertainty and anxiety in his chest.

“Come on, John. We’ve been to tons of clubs. A plus one wouldn’t hurt every once in a while.” George tried to reassure John, stepping back to observe his work. 

“Listen, George, I think you’ve failed to remember that I say stupid things to people. I make really bad impressions. All Paul knows about me is that I make him coffee and I don’t allow his dirty old dog in my store.” John replied, his shoulders dropping.

George simply sighed at John before taking his wrist and dragging him out of the bedroom by his wrist. “Yes, but you also helped him when he was sick. Remember the cup of water? That was sweet, wasn’t it?” 

By the time George had successfully forced John’s feet down the stairs, Ringo had let paul into the cafe. They’d quietly made conversation, waiting for the other two to get down from the apartment part of the cafe, a floor above. Once Paul’s eyes found John and George, he smiled warmly, giving a small wave.

John groaned inwardly, forcing himself to walk further into the cafe. He looked into those pretty hazel eyes and felt like he could just faint right there. How was he supposed to survive hours with this man just a few feet away from him all the time?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk to the club was filled with jokes and laughter, the four playfully teasing each other until they arrived. The entire walk, Paul tried to push a nervous feeling down. It wasn’t that he feared parties. He wasn’t scared of any aspect of a party. But knowing how his father turned out, Paul was never sure how he felt about the burning feeling down your throat and the rush of feeling strangely alive.

After his mother died, Jim McCartney built a new relationship with alcohol. Alcohol that fed his sadness and anger. Alcohol that blinded him to the light of being good and led him to land bruising hits on his sons. 

Paul felt a shiver travel down his spine as they stepped up to the doors of the big building. The bass of the speakers rattled the ground outside and each time someone opened the door, the flashing lights were enough for Paul to rethink his decision to come along with the others.

Still, he forced his legs to move himself forward and through the doorway with the others. He knew it was probably accidental with the amount of people in the building, but it didn’ change the fact that John, Richard, and George broke away from him almost immediately. As each minute passed, he felt a little more unwelcome. 

Bodies bumped against him while he tried to travel through the crowd to someone he’d feel a little more safe with. But everytime he thought he caught a glimpse of one of those men, he’d be pushed and lose sight of him. He had no idea where he had ended up, having lost all sense of direction. 

Eventually he’d had enough of this terribly loud place. The lights had near blinded him and he wasn’t sure how people could handle the deafening music along with the lights and all the other chaos. It just wasn’t for him, really. Of course, the bar got rowdy at times. He’d just been lucky enough to get out of working a _Friday_ _night_. Those were usually the worst and he could only hope that Pete and Stuart wouldn’t hate him when he came in the next night. 

Paul began to push back on the people that bumped into him whether it was on purpose to get his attention or accidental. His eyes were just fixated on the big green letters above the door reading ‘ _ E X I T _ ’. But before he was in the clear, he felt someone grab his wrist. He turned, seeing that it was John with a concerned look and a drink in his other hand. Without bothering to give any sort of reply, Paul yanked his wrist out of John’s grip and continued to move to the door.

It’d been just barely an hour of enduring that place and John just  _ then _ decided to show his face. Paul wasn’t going to have any of it. The moment he’d escaped out into the fresh air, he’d gasped for it, wanting the cool night air to fill his lungs more and more. He wanted the calm and odd serenity of city life at night to fill his lungs and push out all the heat and stress from that booming building. 

Paul had himself pressed up against the wall outside, eyes closed, head tipped back just a little bit so his nose was turned to the sky. He simply just breathed one of those exercises Stuart had taught him to help calm himself down when there was no one there to help him.

_In 1...2...3, out 1...2...3, in 1…2...3, out 1...2...3, i-_

“Paul?”

Paul’s eyes flew open, someone’s voice having pulled him from his mini meditation. He turned his head, a slight frown resting on his lips. His eyes fell upon John who now held two drinks in his hands. At the sight of those two beer bottles, Paul narrowed his eyes at the other before simply closing them again and turning his head back to its original position. He’d done something simple to let John know he acknowledged him. Now the ball was back in John’s court.

John got the message with a small nod, looking down at his shows for a moment or two before looking back over at Paul. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the younger. All leant up against a wall, relaxed. He seemed unwound. Completely narrowed down to a soft, relaxed state. Before he knew it, his own voice was erupting the peaceful silence. 

“Want a drink?” John offered, nudging the part or Paul’s arm that showed his bare skin. The other quickly swiped the condensation off, wrinkling his nose. 

“I don’t drink.” Paul replied simply. He didn’t even bother to look at John. John felt a little pang in his chest at that, but at least Paul couldn’t see that John was quite obviously staring at those pretty pink lips of his. 

“Come on, Paulie, why don’t you let loose a little?” John chuckled, pressing Paul to just  _ take it _ . 

“No, John. Would ya just let me be?” Paul responded, eyes cracking open just a little bit to look over at John.

John hated it. Paul was noticing for all the wrong reasons. He knew he should just leave the younger alone. He obviously wasn’t up for any bullshit. But the thing about John was, he was a fighter, not a lover. “Oh, I’m  _ so  _ sorry I’ve bothered Princess Paulie during his nappy nap.” he snapped, watching Paul’s expression change from relaxed to annoyed. It was a very nasty delight he felt. To know he’d stirred something up in the other.

“Shut it, will ya?” Paul asked, his lips pressing further into a deeper frown. It wasn’t usual for Paul to say something like that. He never let it show when someone was getting to him. Especially when it was obvious when the annoyance was  _ looking  _ for a show.

“You want me to shut  _ my _ mouth? Oh, ‘Pete this, Stuart that’.” John replied, making a high pitched voice when he mocked Paul. “I don’t  _ like you _ , Paul. The only reason George even tried to talk to you is because you’re so fuckin’ obviously  _ poor _ ! Did you really think I’d want to associate with you?!” The words poured out of John’s mouth like water from a faucet. He couldn’t stop them once he’d turned the knob a little too harshly and broken it, letting the words fly freely from his lips. “You practically  _ live  _ in the streets.”

Paul just watched John snap at him, his eyes now fully opened. Those innocent doe eyes made John’s heart ache even more. “Okay.” Paul near whispered, trying to ignore the fact that his throat was closing up. Tears brimmed in his eyes but he was quick to try and wipe them away, simply just smearing the salty water all over his cheeks. “I certainly don’t want to spoil your night any longer.” He nodded.

With that, Paul turned and walked away. He held in the sobs, but the tears flowed freely, earning him a few odd looks from passerby people. John just stood and watched, his mouth hanging open. He’d just single handedly destroyed not only his relationship with Paul, but George and Richard’s as well.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no remorse


	7. rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> martha just didn't want to get wet..

The next few weeks went by agonizingly slow. Guilt often weighed heavily on John’s shoulders as those sickening words replayed in his head every moment of the day. He knew it wasn’t hard to believe something like that had slipped past someone like John’s lips. Just the thought of completely losing someone who’d weaseled his way deep into John’s thoughts was what made John’s heart sink like a rock and his stomach to do somersaults.

It only got worse when George and Richard started to ask about Paul, wondering if John had seen a trace of him since that night. It was just a daily reminder, ‘ _ shame on you, John Lennon, shame on you _ ’. He often chanted that in his mind at the sight of George’s lips turning up into a disappointed and defeated half-smile. 

As much as Richard was sick of hearing Paul’s name at first, he’d also found he was worried about where Paul had ended up. He and George had come out of the loud club in the much later hours of the night to find John out having a smoke. John also claimed to have no idea where their doe eyed friend had wandered off to.

The unsettling part for both Richard and George was that they had no clue of Paul’s whereabouts. George often said he should've paid more attention and made sure  _ all _ of his friends were alright throughout the night. Richard never disagreed with those types of statements. He simply nodded in understanding. They all should’ve been looking out for each other. Now they had a secret missing person’s case.

It was only a secret because John had always gotten on the defense about calling the police for this. Always saying stuff like “He’ll turn up, just give it a few more days.” Except it’d been two weeks now and they hadn’t heard a word from Paul.

Richard watched George some nights as he made his nightly call. As more days were added onto their radio silence, it was getting harder for George to decide if he should ring Paul or the police. Of course, he trusted that Paul might just be on vacation or something.  _ Something _ . Because there  _ had _ to be an excuse for this strange behavior. 

John and Richard watched George peer out the large windows of the coffee shop with narrowed eyes, searching for the familiar sight of Paul in one of his tight tops with his trusty old guitar and sweet Martha. No such luck. Two weeks. Twenty-one days. And Paul had completely disappeared from their lives.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul did his best to avoid the street where he’d met those mean, mean people. Now that he knew of their tainted views of him, he wanted to avoid the three as much as possible. Of course, it also just so happened that Paul had been playing guitar in the same spot for months to get some extra cash. His cash flow had been terribly slowed down now that the passerby people thought he was just another one of those new performers. Just another one of the poor people, often labeled lazy or plain annoying. 

People were used to seeing Paul where he always would be. He always could pick out that certain handful of people who always gave him money when they could and for that, Paul would be forever grateful.

At this point, it was either get money and possibly see those dreadful men or get kicked out of his apartment. It was obvious which option he would go for. He’d much rather see some people he doesn’t particularly like instead of completely losing his home altogether.

Paul’s usual morning alarm blared loudly, poor Martha sleepily raising her head to glare at the pesky little machine. Paul took a deep breath, raising his arms above his head to stretch them in a yawn. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Paul rose up from the comfort of his warm blankets. This had been the usual routine for a long time now. Ever since he had put his foot down and moved out of the house he grew up in.

Now it was just him and Martha against the world.

Paul shuffled to the tiny little bathroom in his apartment, leaving the door perfectly open for Matha who usually came in a minute or two after Paul and waited patiently for one of her mini dental treats. Opening the medicine cabinet, he eyed his different face washes and scrubs. All of them were dangerously running out. Of course, Paul had known that for days. Still, he felt a sense of despair at how much money they’d all been. They hadn’t been put to waste at all, it was only that Paul had no idea how he was going to pay for something so extra and luxurious.

Once he decided which products he was going to break his own heart using, Paul started his morning facial care. It wasn’t only that Paul wanted to be blemish free, but blemish free meant better business at the bar. And better business at the bar meant getting a good paycheck. So, as long as he looked pretty, he trusted that he’d get money.

While Paul dabbed at his face with a dry washcloth, Martha came padding into the bathroom and sat next to Paul’s feet, looking up at him with her pink tongue hanging out of her mouth. Looking down at her, a smile spread across his lips. “Good morning, Martha.” He said quietly, his voice a bit scratchy from sleep.

He opened the medicine cabinet once again and put his things away before reaching up to the top shelf and digging his hand into the bag of dental treats. Only one left. Paul felt his heart twinge. “We’re running low on just about everything, aren't we?” He asked aloud, looking at Martha as if she could speak an answer. Only a soft whine came from her. “Well, enjoy this one while it lasts.” He replied, tossing the mini bone to her. With ease she caught it in her mouth and started to chew on it. 

After brushing his teeth, Paul wandered back to his room and pulled on a long sleeve button up and a pair of jeans. He slid on his black shoes and glanced at himself in the mirror. He simply ran his fingers through his hair instead of combing it out as usual. He couldn’t be bothered with that old comb that morning. Some of the plastic bristles had broken off into his hair before and he ended up having to shake his hair to get it to fall out, just further messing up his hair. 

Of course, that’s just what he gets for using a comb his mother bought for him long before she died. Paul just didn't have the heart to throw it away.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John watched the small tv in his room, a small groan croaking from the very back of his throat. He hated storms. Especially when it called for heavy rain and even flash floods in some places. It really just meant people wouldn’t want to bother with stopping for a coffee. That’d be too much work on a dreary day like this. 

Still, it was a work day. Pulling himself out of bed, he trudged to his and Mimi’s shared bathroom and began to get ready for another day.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul had no idea what had gotten into Martha. The moment he picked up his guitar case, she seemed to be acting all odd. With her tail tucked between her legs, he urged her out of the door with tiny nudges.

She whined the whole elevator ride, while Paul looked at her curiously. He had no clue what could possibly have gotten her so upset in such a short time. She seemed fine ten minutes ago when he’d tossed the regular morning treat to her. He simply blamed her odd behavior on a bellyache and pushed it aside.

Instead, he focused on getting to where he needed to be, though it didn’t require much focus. After a while, his legs just learned to travel to that usual spot, leaving his mind to wander as it pleased. But today, his mind was focused on the dog whose eyes kept wandering to the cloudy sky. Paul didn’t see anything wrong with the sky. Just the usual grey clouds covering the blue sky.

He didn’t see anything wrong because the real problem was following right behind him. Giant, nearly black clouds hovering behind him, floating nearer and nearer with each of his steps. 

By the time he arrived, across the street to that coffee shop that he never wanted to visit again, a slight drizzle started to rain down on him. Nothing he couldn’t handle. That’s only what he thought until the raindrops were coming down harder and faster in the blink of an eye. All around him, passerby people scrambled to get to where they needed to be faster to not get completely drenched.

“Oh, Martha.” Paul sighed with a soft chuckle. “Why didn’t I listen to you today?” He asked, as if the poor sheepdog would answer him. He closed his eyes and simply stood in the rain, his head bowed.

Surprise came to him when she did. 

In a bark and a growl of course. Paul looked up from the ground and opened his eyes to John Lennon standing next to him, wearing a sympathetic smile and holding an umbrella over their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait! i lost motivation with the story for a hot minute and i ended up just blowing off writing at all. but i didn't want to let you all down, so i pushed out a chapter. don't worry! sometimes i just get tired of writing and need a little break. i don't see myself discontinuing this until i've completely finished it. (the cliffhangers effect me just as much as you, trust me. i ususally spend hours after posting a chapter thinking about what's going to happen next. those times i upload a chapter once everyday for a day or two is usually the product of my excitement)
> 
> anyway, i'm not sure if i'll post anything next week because i'll be spending time with family, but i'll try to write a little bit a t a time to get something out right after.
> 
> love you all! ~ kat


	8. cry baby cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they meet in the rain, but in the end, one ends up with rain in his eyes.
> 
> that probably made no sense, i'm sorry i'm tired :')

Ever since he had the idea to rush over to Paul’s side in the rain, John knew it’d be a bit of a struggle to get Paul to go anywhere near him after he’d let those poisonous words leave his mouth a few weeks back. He knew Paul probably wouldn’t willingly be anywhere near Ringo, George, or himself. Not after saying their friendship was simply just charity. Of course, they’d known Paul was less fortunate no matter how he tried to hide it. But it was mean to call him  _ poor _ to his  _ face _ . 

Paul’s eyes narrowed once they’d met John. He took a step to the side, away from John but not far enough to be completely out of the umbrella’s reach, almost like he was still contemplating if he should really reject John just yet. He said nothing, quite obviously waiting for the other to make the first move and say something. 

John got the message once he’d noticed Paul’s expectant eyes hadn’t left him. They were still staring at him with a look of anger mixed with all the other emotions plaguing his mind. He quickly glanced away uncomfortably, silently hoping Paul would break his stare. Still, Paul’s eyes remained, burning holes into John.

The tension wrapped itself around John’s neck like a pair of hands. Part of him wanted to just choke out some words for Paul who was obviously expecting  _ something _ . The other part of him wanted to burst out in uncomfortable laughter and say that this whole conflict was just silly and they should put aside their differences and just move on. But that was just silly, wasn’t it? His eyes met Paul’s once again and for a moment, John simply let himself admire Paul. Slowly his eyes swept about the younger’s soft features, despite how crinkled they were at the moment. 

John fought for another breath before speaking. The silence had gone on far too long for either of their tastes, so he spit something out for Paul to take and burn with his silent, but fiery anger.

“You should come over, uh, wait out the storm.” John said, glancing away so he didn’t have to look at the disgusting look of satisfaction that spread onto Paul’s face. 

“I don’t need  _ charity _ , Lennon.” Paul said simply. Little did he know, he’d just gassed a bit of John’s own anger. Why in the world would Paul have choked him with silence, just to feed him five words in that sickeningly sweet tone? Revenge, of course. What else?

Paul’s eyes drifted away with a tiny smile. He was satisfied. He could finally, after weeks of silence, get his words in and express them in any tortuous way he pleased. He understood John was just as desperate for him to say something as he was with John. 

John let out a huff of breath. He wouldn’t let his anger control his words and make the situation worse. If he really liked Paul so much, he was going to get through Paul’s petty behavior without throwing insults in his face again. John’s eyes wearily travelled up and down Paul. He tried to keep himself from smiling at Paul’s tousled hair until he saw that Paul was at just the brink of getting rained on. Just perfectly at the edge of where the umbrella ended where the collection of water met and fell in much larger drops than the rain.

With this new information, John let a smirk curl his lips. He glanced up at the canopy covering his head, just slightly shifting the umbrella closer to his side. Martha was sure to step closer to John once she noticed the cold droplets were soaking her fur. Moments later. Paul too was stepping closer to John, huddling up to keep from further wetting his hair. 

John’s expression softened just a bit at Paul. The man was trying his best to stay angry with John while also expressing gratitude for the cover from the rain. Stubborn, he was. “C’mon, can’t you come on over so we can both get inside?” He inquired, nodding his head over to the cafe across the street. 

Paul raised his head to peer over to the familiar little place, which now he’d noticed never learned the name of. He simply just referred to it as “the cafe where John works” in his mind. The title was quite simple and similar to many of the other shops on the street. “Penny Lane Coffee House” the sign read in pretty lettering, big enough for anyone desperate enough for a cuppa to identify it. Underneath that, on a regular piece of looseleaf, in sloppy handwriting, it said “Room For Rent”.

The next thing that popped up into Paul’s mind was the word “both”. John had said “both”, not “the three of us”. So, John was still insistent that Martha didn’t come in. Of course, Paul understood and respected a no animals policy, but John didn’t  _ really _ expect Paul to just leave poor Martha out in the rain, did he?

“What about Martha? I can’t just leave her out in the storm, John.” Paul sighed, breaking the silence between them. Little did he know John just hearing his name on Paul’s lips did wonders to convince him. Just.. not enough. John’s lip curled in distaste at the shaggy dog standing at his feet, her tongue lolling about from her wide open mouth. If he and Mimi agreed on one thing, it was that dogs were loud, rambunctious creatures that should very well use a dog house instead of making messes indoors. But, Paul’s own puppy dog eyes made John rethink Mimi’s rules. It truly wasn’t fair to leave the poor animal out with no shelter. He surely wouldn’t do that to a precious kitty cat. It would only be for a little bit too, just to wait out the storm, and then he could kick the mangy mutt out.

John weighed his options. He could let the dog in and get to speak to Paul about what happened the last time they were together and hopefully get his new friend back, or he could abide by Mimi’s rules and leave the dog out in the rain, which would certainly mean leaving Paul out in the rain and ultimately destroy any chance he had left with Paul McCartney.

Glancing over to Paul, he noticed the man’s eyes seemed to have grown larger and glazed over for the terrible effect of huge, begging puppy dog eyes. Paul did good work to push out his bottom lip just enough to make his natural pout look even more inviting and pitiful. John didn’t have the strength to look away and break the curse Paul was putting on him. “Fine, fine! She can come in!” John exclaimed, just so he could make Paul stop making that terrible face before John reached into his chest and tore his heart out to hand over to Paul. 

Paul smiled, satisfaction dancing across his face at the victory. John watched him and time seemingly slowed for him. His thoughts were a trainwreck and he was sure if his heart was beating any harder, it’d burst right out of his chest. It was just Paul’s  _ smile _ . Why in the world was he feeling like this? Obviously, John had feelings for people before but never like  _ this _ . Truly, he didn’t know how to act.

The next thing he knew, Paul was snapping his fingers in front of John’s face. “Hello? Earth to Lennon, Earth to Lennon.” With those words he changed his movement to instead waving in John’s face, trying to gain his attention. 

“What? What?” John asked, shooing paul’s hand away from his face with a feigned irritated expression. At the sight of John’s irritation, Paul wrinkled his nose. He certainly wasn’t going to stay if John was going to start something up again. He’d walk home on his own if that was the case. Who needs immediate shelter when your home is just a few blocks away anyway?

“Not my fault you were staring.” Paul replied with a slight roll of his eyes. Before John or Paul could get into anything. Thunder rumbled loudly and it didn’t seem too far away. 

“Let’s get inside.” John said, speaking both of their thoughts. He nearly grabbed Paul’s hand before walking across the street but thought better of it. Still before he could yank his hand away from what he was planning to do, his hand brushed against Paul’s and suddenly he felt a spark between then and a strange jolt of energy run up his spine.

The two walked at a rushed pace, afraid of the thought of getting struck by lightning. Of course, the chances were low, still, you never know what day could be your unlucky day. Once they’d reached the other side walk, John had scurried over to the door to let Paul in begrudgingly watch Martha trot inside right after him. With a sigh, John followed. He was going to get in a bunch of trouble for this.

John’s moment of quiet and relax didn’t last long, though. The moment his eyes fell upon the big shaggy dog, she began to shake all the water off, spraying droplets of water that probably smelled like wet dog everywhere. John wanted to grab the dog and steady her but he was sure that she’d bite his hands off if he touched her. Martha was obviously protective of her owner and she could sense the unsteadiness he felt around this new fellow. 

John let a frown settle on his lips as he looked over to Paul with narrowed eyes. Paul gave a guilty, apologetic smile in return, knowing full well that John was certainly not happy with what Martha had done. Their quiet moment was interrupted by a terrible shriek from behind the counter.

John ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to shout at the excruciating noise his aunt had made. Paul whipped his head over to the source, genuinely concerned about the sound. “Are you okay, mis-” Paul began, only to be interrupted by the lady shouting. 

“Who brought that rug of an animal in here?!” She asked, grabbing the straw broom that rested against the wall behind the counter. 

“Rug?” Paul replied, making a face at the woman who he assumed to be simply mad and out of her head.

Before Paul and Mimi could get into it about Martha being a rug, John interfered. “Mimi, this is my fri-” John paused. Were they even friends. John would assume not after he shot those words at Paul that while ago. Suddenly his plan to apologize and get his friend back seemed silly. Band aids don’t fix bullet holes, after all. How did he know Paul wasn’t shamefully thinking about what he said earlier right in this moment?

With a glance at Paul, he saw his expectant expression and his eyebrow quirked. He was waiting. Waiting for John to continue. It almost taunted him, knowing that Paul was watching, waiting for John to spit the word “friend” out so he could object and say they weren’t friends. Say that they were never friends and they would never be friends. And say that John had lost his chance long ago when those words poured out of his mouth, sounding genuine as wine.

So, John continued. “,friend, Paul.” The word tasted bad on his tongue, but Paul didn’t try to stop him. He could see that Paul had simply pursed his lips to hold in any hurtful words, no matter how much John deserved them. “He didn’t know it was going to rain today and walked to play his guitar on the street with his dog. I figured we could let them wait out the storm, right? It’ll only be for a little bit.”

Mimi crossed her arms, looking at Martha wagging her tail. If it would only be for a little while..

“Martha’s a very good dog. Won’t cause any trouble at all.” Paul chimed in, a hopeful smile taking over any glares he might’ve sent John’s way, despite him actually trying to  _ help _ Paul in this situation.

“As soon as the storm’s gone,” Mimi began, pointing at the dog in a very distaful manner. “that  _ rug _ better be  _ out _ of my coffee house.” Her tone was cold, but it got the point across to Paul. 

As soon as the storm was gone, he would leave and take his precious baby girl away from these evil dog haters.

Minutes later, Mimi had carried herself upstairs so she wouldn’t have to look at the dog sitting nicely next to Paul’s claimed chair, almost taunting her for her mean attitude toward the poor thing. What was she thinking?! That rug was  _ not  _ a poor creature and most certainly did  _ not _ deserve her pity. 

John had sat Paul down at a table and whipped up two warm drinks for them while the rain continued to pour outside. John quietly placed the glass mug in front of Paul. Like with his other two close friends, he’d quickly memorized Paul’s regular order. He was sure to just add extra love and care this time.

John plopped down across the table with a sigh. Paul watched, narrowed eyes peering over his mug as he sipped on his treat. John didn’t let too much silence fill the moment, quickly beginning to speak up.

“Listen, Paul.” He started slowly, glancing up from his drink before his eyes found their way back down to the brown liquid in his mug. He thought better of that, though, figuring it would be better if he at least  _ tried _ to hold eye contact during his apology. He wasn’t one for beating about the bush. 

Well, unless you asked him to confess his new undying love for this not so random shaggy man who played guitar across the street from his cafe. 

John started right off the bat, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said, okay? I mean, I know this might sound weird because I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I like you. Not, like, like you. I just like you as a friend, as a person, I mean.” Now he was tripping over his words. He really should have panned out a better excuse than ‘I’m sorry I was a total wanker to you, I just get nervous around really pretty men.’

“I think I was just nervous to be around you, and-”  _ God, give it a rest, Lennon! _ “Jesus Christ, I’m bad at long apologies, alright? I’m just sorry. I miss you coming around and so does George and Ringo.” John tilted his head down a bit now and lowered his voice. “I never actually told them why you stopped hanging around us and they kind of think you either died or just ditched us.”

John almost thought the sound of a chair being pushed back was just a customer. Then he realized that when he’d sat down, there were no other customers and the sound of the little bell on the door hadn’t rung during his rambled apology. John quickly looked up from his mesmerizing mug of coffee to see Paul walking away stiffly, clenched fists at his sides and Martha walking at his side.

John jumped up from his seat, rushing after Paul. The tension seemed to thicken when Paul’s hand rested on the door handle and John’s hand wrapped around Paul’s wrist at the same time. 

Paul whipped his head around and the color drained from John’s face. Like earlier, Paul’s eyes were glazed over but with more force and they were more.. filled. John Lennon had yet again managed to make Paul McCartney cry. John’s grip on Paul’s wrist loosened, deeming him free to go if he pleased. 

“You, you-” Paul tried to form a sentence, but his voice was too shaky and he was so, so overwhelmed. Suddenly that thin barrier that kept him from bursting into tears right before John’s eyes broke and Paul knew the tears were falling.

Instead of yanking his wrist out of John’s fainted grip, he launched himself toward John and buried his face in the crook of John’s neck. His sobs were muffled but still prominent and loud enough for John to hear. He stumbled back a few steps at the strange new pressure on his chest. Quickly, he steadied himself. For a minute or two, they were still standing in front of the door with the new addition to John burying his nose in Paul’s hair as he stroked it gently, hoping that would ease Paul’s sobs at least a little bit. Every few seconds or so, John would let out a soft, “Shh, shh.” as he’d seen mothers do with their crying children.

Soon, John had moved for the nearest chair to sit down, guiding Paul as his face was still stuck to John’s neck. The table he sat at now was not the table they’d previously resided, but he could care less in his very moment. So, he left their drinks to get cold.

And for a while there, it was just John with his nose stuck in his weeping crush’s hair while he tried to soothe him, his crush sitting in his lap, and his crush’s sweet dog, Martha, peering up at them through her shaggy bangs.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> john finally gets to let his cute, loving side shine :)
> 
> so sorry for the long wait! i've been dealing with some writer's block and wrote this chapter over some time. i actually went back and edited it for once which i plan to do with past chapters. i also laid my cliffhangers to rest just to let y'all soak in some fluff for a bit ;)
> 
> this one's a little longer because usually i get these done all in one sitting of like an hour, but i allowed myself more time this round and i feel a lot more proud of it :)   
> i've also been reading a lot of fics lately and decided my writing wasn't nearly as good so i wanted to take more time with this one to really get some flow going 
> 
> i love you all and your comments make my day better every time. i know a lot of creators just say that for more clout and reads, but really i love reading your reactions and sweet comments, so feel free to leave something below <3


	9. i'm a loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who knew driving to an apartment building could be so dramatic

A few times during the storm, Mimi tried to retreat to the cafe downstairs just in case they got any customers and John was “busy” entertaining their guest and his rug. But, each time, she thought she would be intruding on something because the more she listened in each time, she realized for herself that Paul was not just one of John’s friends. No, Paul was  _ definitely  _ John’s new boyfriend that he’d failed to tell her about. There wouldn’t be any other reason John had kissed Paul’s forehead, even gently bouncing his leg, doing anything to try and soothe the man sitting in his  _ lap _ . 

Paul had stopped crying soon, not because he was actually done having a mental breakdown, but because he simply didn’t have any more tears to shed. Still, he was relaxed in John’s lap, who didn’t seem to mind at all. His head rested against John’s chest, quietly listening to the other’s heartbeat while he pet Martha’s head. John’s hand steadily rubbed Paul’s back, his nose still in Paul’s hair, seemingly unable to get enough of the sweet scent of Paul’s shampoo. 

It was a nice quiet after the storm that had occurred inside. Really, the more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he was to have cried and sobbed for what felt like hours .  John probably even thought that it was his fault too- what a mess. Really, it was just the memory of that night that triggered him to start violently crying like there was no tomorrow. And then, of course, the realization that everything at home was crumbling.

He just didn’t want to admit that John was right about Paul. That all Paul ever had been and ever will be was a shaggy, poor man with a dog as his only friend that he really talked to. The one who really took the beatings for his emotions though, was that guitar that he hadn’t enough money to buy new strings for. His paycheck was absolute shit, and he didn’t get it until the end of the week anyway. By then he’d have nothing but those frozen dinners he’d bought a while ago that he just dreaded actually attempting to eat. 

Paul shifted slightly, causing a slight disrupt in the strange peace of everything. He moved his head away before simply letting himself fall back against John. Right now, he was too tired from just crying his heart out to John to do anything.

“Thank you..” Paul whispered, his finger tracing shapes on John’s bicep. John simply hummed in reply, his hand still steadily rubbing circles onto Paul’s back. To both of their disappointment, time had gone much too fast and the pitter-pattering of the rain on the windows had come to a slow end. 

At first, John hadn’t remembered their deal at the beginning of the storm, too caught up in the sea of tears and soft hushes. So, when Paul was moving from John’s lap, his arms found their way to Paul’s waist and hugged him closer. “John, the rain’s stopped. I’ve gotta go.” Paul whispered to the other, his hands working on loosening the other’s grip. John noticed Paul’s voice was terribly raw and shaky after his breakdown and felt a strong urge to just hold him closer and remind him that all was going to be okay and that he was so sorry.

Ignoring those thoughts, John let go and Paul rose from his lap slowly. He finally got the chance to really look at Paul today. Like anyone else after crying for so long, Paul looked drained and sleepy. Suddenly, he found he couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “I can drive you home.. If you like.”

Paul stopped and turned to look at John. He bit his lip, letting his eyes silently size John up before they met his eyes. “Uh..” He wanted to say yes, to let the other just drive him home instead of having his legs carry him home in his sleepy state. Still, what would John think when he saw his apartment building? It was probably the smallest one in Liverpool. He felt an extra shame knowing that in the wealthier parts of the city, people began rumors that the most crime happened behind those doors. From men dragging women inside or people smoking illegal things to stop feeling anything. 

Paul knew these rumors were true, he’d seen red eyed people or people whose pupils were blown far larger than they should, walk those halls, prowling for trouble. Pete and Stuart had seen it with their own two eyes as well, but it wasn’t like they lived in any better situations. They’d been concerned long ago when they first met Paul, but now it was normal to see Paul walk into work trembling from the sights he’d seen before he left for the night. 

Then again, he shouldn’t expect to have them as friends and not find out about where he lived, or even worse, where he worked. With a small, defeated exhale, he nodded. “Yeah, if it’s not any trouble.” 

With a nod, John stood. Paul noticed a wet spot on John’s shirt and cringed. He didn’t even let the realization wash over him until then that he’d cried on John’s shoulder for most of the storm. Suddenly he wished the ground would swallow him up. How  _ embarrassing _ . The man he’d tried to walk out on had also been the one who held him and desperately tried to soothe Paul’s crying. 

With those thoughts hanging over him, Paul sighed and shuffled over to their previous table, taking his guitar into his hands while John cleaned up the mugs filled with now cold coffee. John found that he was handling the mugs with much more care than he usually would. Maybe it was than Paul had made him feel softer. After that long time of sitting with Paul, his stroking the other’s hair became less and less like forced comfort and more natural-feeling.

The only thing was, Paul only saw John as a friend. If John didn’t start reprimanding himself for these i-don’t-want-to-be-your-friend-i-want-to-kiss-your-lips thoughts about Paul, he’d be in big trouble. At least, that was his perspective of it. And now that John thought about it, he only asked to drive Paul home because he wanted to spend more time with him, even if it was just a few minutes of a drive to some random apartment building.

John patted his pockets for his keys and wallet, which, for once in a blue moon, were actually  _ in  _ his pockets and not lost somewhere upstairs or about the cafe. Offering a small smile to Paul, John opened the door for him, to which Paul smiled gratefully. Paul walked past John and outside, Martha trailing right behind him with a wagging tail. 

Paul inhaled deeply, the relaxing smell of post-rain filling his nostrils. Paul’s sleepy smile seemed to grow just a little bit more. The pesky pains of a headache behind his eyes began to creep up on him, but he’d always loved the smell of the rain. The relaxation started to grow heavy on his shoulders. God, he just wanted to fall asleep right here on the sidewalk..

Paul was snapped from his daze in a near instant when John started to snap his fingers in front of his face. His eyelids flew open, his eyes a bit wide from surprise. He hadn’t even realized his eyes had fallen shut. “Jeez, Paul, I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep standing up!” John chuckled softly.

Paul simply laughed along, nodding. “Probably could, I’m feelin’ a little sleepy.” He replied, lifting his free hand up to rub at his eyes. 

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” Playful sarcasm practically  _ dripped  _ from John’s voice. Paul gently pushed John’s shoulder, giggling. “Alright, let’s go, then.” He nodded, taking the first few steps down the street to his car.

The ride was short and smooth, but John’s unease grew each time Paul told him which turns to take to get to his home. He hadn’t visited Prudence Street much, but the times he had probably didn’t put the best light on the place. At this point, those bad occurrences had happened far too often to be a coincidence. Still, Paul guided him quietly, also seeming a little on edge.

The soft buzz of the radio was enough to make Paul just want to rest his head against the cool window and fall asleep to the lull of the city soundscape. But, he had to focus on giving John the directions home. They didn’t speak much during the ride, given the tensions of Paul’s growing anxiety about what John was thinking and John’s unease about where they were headed. 

When a tall apartment building came into view and Paul began to shift to gather his guitar in hand, John‘s suspicions were confirmed. Now he knew why Paul hesitated about the ride home. With every moment of that day, John’s regret grew more and more. He should’ve never let himself get jealous of Paul's friends. Paul’s other friends probably had never made him cry or been upset when all he did was try to share things about himself.

The click of Paul’s belt broke the silence and John gently pressed on the brakes. Just as Paul was a bout to get out, his hand pulling on the handle, he stopped. John’s eyebrows furrowed as Paul turned back to face him. This was it, the moment where Paul would say exactly how he felt about John just to get back at him for what he’d said. John held his breath, waiting for the cold blow, but nothing. Instead, Paul’s hand rested on top of John’s and John’s eyes met Paul’s. 

The same shiver of electricity as before traveled up his spine. John wanted to get lost in the feeling of the excitement he felt when his and Paul's hands touched. Before John could make any moves to take the other’s hand in his and make things awkward, Paul spoke to break the silence. “I forgive you, John. For what happened a few weeks ago.” Again, Paul cut John off from doing anything and raised his hand to John’s bicep. Instead of squeezing it and giggling like the slutty, drunk girls at bars, Paul simply patted there and unknowingly ripped John’s heart to shreds.

“I’m glad we can be friends again. See you around, yeah? C’mon Martha.” Not even waiting for a response, Paul was out of the car with his dog and his guitar, walking up to the double doors of the big apartment complex.

John was out of breath. His heart felt like it’d turned to stone and dropped to his stomach. 

Friend zoned.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> i'll be honest, i hate this chapter


	10. yer blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> john and the boys™ go out for a drink to try and discuss the topic of paul and hopefully solve some problems, only to make more instead. feat, george's terrible driving

Without wasting another minute, John’s phone was in his hand and he was frantically dialling George’s number. As the phone rang, John wedged it between his ear and his shoulder. Both hands squeezed the steering wheel as he slammed on the gas pedal. He just wanted to get out of here and get home. He just wanted to escape this terribly embarrassing moment.

Did Paul somehow know or figure out that John had taken a liking to him? Did Paul just want to shut John down before he tried to make a move? Or worse, did Paul have a boyfriend he’d never spoken of? Or was Paul just terribly oblivious- “Hello? John, have you gone mute?” the sound of a very annoyed sounding George rang through the speaker. John hadn’t even noticed that the ringing had stopped and George had begun speaking.

“God, no, George-” John couldn’t properly get a full sentence out. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say just yet. There were several things he’d have to go over before he could even think about speaking about this whole friendzone thing. Dreadfully starting with John’s elegant speech a few weeks back.

“Y'know what, we should meet up tonight. You, me, and Ritchie. I’ve gotta talk to you two ‘bout Paul.”

“Paul?! What about him? Did you see him? He alright?” John flinched at George’s incessant squawking. How could he forget to turn down his volume before calling  _ George _ . 

With a roll of his eyes, John replied quickly. “Yes, he’s alright, dammit.” He needed to get off this phone call. He wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t like it was going to speed up the time until they met. “Just, it’s a lot to unpack, alright? Let’s meet tonight, say, I don’t know, five or six?”

“Not sure about Ringo, but I’ve got nothing to do on a rainy Monday like this. I’ll check with him and text you later, yeah?” 

“Sounds grand. I’m not goin’ to any of your weird clubs. Let’s go to a dinner place.. Or a bar. A bar sounds great right now, actually.” John sighed, his fingers drumming against the wheel. He relaxed a little now that he was on the phone with a mate of his. A bit of calm washed over him and suddenly this friend zone didn’t feel so bad.

Except heat rose to his face whenever he simply thought about Paul. His notebook was filled with sketches of just Paul’s features. He had a _ terrible _ crush on Paul. 

“Ooh! You know, I was just driving around the other night and I saw this cool looking place-” Right then, John hung up. He really wasn’t up for another one of Georgs’s ramblings. Now, he had to figure out how he was going to tell his mates that the whole reason their friends hadn’t come to see them in weeks was all his doing.  _ God _ , he was miserable.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, the time passed quickly. Rain showers and very few customers kept him busy as the hours passed by. Now George was outside the cafe, practically leaning on the car horn as if that would quicken John’s pace. With a roll of his eyes, John pulled his flannel off the coat hanger and ran a hand through his hair as he pushed open the door. 

John turned around to lock up, only to hear George’s busted up car’s window squeak as it rolled down. “Took ya long enough, ya wanker!” He called out the window, only to get John’s middle finger in return. Richard chuckled at their antics and John finally opened the door and climbed into the back seat. 

Before John could even get his seatbelt on, George had slammed on the breaks. “Jesus, George, where’d you learn to drive?!” John asked, gripping the overhead handle as both a joke and just in case George flipped the car over with his erratic driving. 

The ride was short, but John refused to think it was that the distance wasn’t much and it was just George’s speeding that got them there so fast. They hadn’t talked too much during the ride, just had small talk about their day. Of course, John didn’t disclose much since Paul was such a huge part of his day. John could tell the tension was thick. The two up front really just wanted to get around to the whole Paul topic and stop beating about the bush. 

The three all got out of the car, George moving to the parking meter to pay for a ticket. Meanwhile, Richard and John looked up at the beat up sign above the door that read  _ Epstein’s Pub _ . 

“I think this is the only place in the city we haven’t been to.” Ricard smiled, earning a short chuckle from John.

“Alright then, let’s go.” George nodded pulling the door open. When they all stepped in, their reactions to what they saw were each a bit different. 

John’s heart dropped to his stomach and he suddenly froze in his place. Richard blinked, his lips parting but he found himself with no words. George was just about to stomp up to the bar. The only thing that kept him from doing so was he wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to shout at him or squeal with joy.

There he was. None other than Paul McCartney bustling about behind the bar. 

“No way.” Richard was the first to speak, his eyes moving to glance over at a steaming George and an absolutely from John. 

The tiny bell on the door didn’t seem to catch any of the employees attention. A tall, lanky guy in the same uniform as Paul was leaned over a table, scrubbing at a nonexistent stain just to look busy. The one other employee was busy making drinks for the few who sat at the bar. Paul was just moving about, probably trying to busy himself on such a boring night. 

Finally when the door fell closed, three pairs of eyes fell on them. They all could finally recognize the man making drinks as Pete, the guy who had to come and pick up Paul from the cafe when he was sick. Pete’s expression hardened into a frown before he started to pour whatever he mixed into a few glasses to serve up with a fake smile and a few words. Paul smiled and waved, obviously not reading George’s frustrated expression very well. The lanky one with dark hair mumbled out a greeting. After a few moments, he noticed that none of the three customers knew what in the world he said. Skipping the “hello” part, he spoke louder. “You can sit wherever.” 

“Maybe we should just g-” Richard began, but George was too fast for him and was already walking at a fast pace to the bar. His hands slammed down on the counter and the quiet chatter of the few other customers stopped. 

“Where the  _ fuck _ have you been?!” He asked, his tone quite accusatory. The small, scraggly band standing up on the stage stopped playing to watch the assumed crazy man scream at the bartender. Paul opened his mouth to speak, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. George cut him off before he could push out some excuse. “You disappeared for  _ weeks _ . You didn’t even bother to call!”

Paul glanced over at Pete to watch his reaction. When it came to stepping in when customers were yelling at Paul, Pete had always been a little more protective while Stuart liked to keep peace and would try to cater to whatever the customer was complaining about before things got out of hand. But this time, both Pete and Stuart were glaring daggers at the group that had just come in. 

Pete recognized them from the cafe, but wasn’t sure which one had made Paul  _ cry _ . Stuart wasn’t completely clueless. From what he heard from Paul, the shortest one with blue eyes was Richard. So, that only meant that it was either the one who was yelling at Paul now or the one still staring into space that was John. 

“Listen, sir, we don't appreciate it when customers yell at employees.” Pete said through his teeth, somehow keepinging a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips as he looked on at George.

Richard’s eyes wandered the little pub, chuckling at the group of men staring on at George acting like a madman. They reminded him of himself, George, and John in high school, pretending they lived in the fifties with leather pants and jackets with their hair done up in greasy pompadours. God, they were terrible. 

John still couldn’t believe it. That Paul just so happened to be working the night shift with Pete and who he assumed was Stuart at a random pub George had chosen for their night of Paul gossip. Could this day get  _ any  _ worse?

Pete and George exchanged a few more words while Paul just watched with a gaping mouth. This couldn’t be happening. Surely it was just a dream. But, when George sauntered off to a table far in the corner of the pub, gesturing for Richard and John to follow, Paul’s finger’s chose a spot of skin to terrorize and pinched as tightly as he could. To his disappointment, and probably John’s as well, he didn’t wake up in his cozy mess of a bed with Martha at his feet.

Once both John and Richard had settled down in the booth table, Richard and Georeg sitting across from John on one bench while John occupied the other. “So, you wanted us here for something abo-” Richard began. Of course, George just  _ had  _ to butt in. 

“Did you know he worked here? Is that why you wanted to come here?” George asked, rushing his words. He narrowed his eyes at John with suspicion. Now that he knew Paul was just fine and he’d seen him simply smile at him like nothing was wrong made him angry. He wasn’t sure if he was just upset about the thought of being ignored or if Paul had actually hurt his feelings when he didn’t even bother to shoot George a “hello” text in the weeks he was absent from the cafe.

“No! No, you git. You’re the one that suggested this place.” John replied with a roll of his eyes. “All I wanted was to explain why he wasn’t talking to us.”

It seemed to dawn on Richard and George at the same time that the reason Paul disappeared from their lives was probably because of John’s doing. He had quite the history of being rude when he didn’t mean it. And what they knew from Paul, whatever John said hurt his feelings enough to completely cut himself off from the group. 

“Remember when we went to the club a few weeks ago?” John asked, his eyes moving from George to Richard and back. 

“Please tell me you didn’t say some stupid bullshit to him.” George said with a monotone voice, already a look of disappointment on his face. 

Both Richard and George let out quiet groans when John averted his gaze to the wooden table. He began to nervously gnaw on his bottom lip, letting a heavy breath escape through his nose. “I did..” 

“Jesus..” Richard sighed, letting his head fall back on the cushioned back of the booth’s bench. “What’d you say?” he asked, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. 

“I called him poor and said our friendship was just.. charity.” John choked out the last word. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he couldn’t help but glance at George to watch guilt wash over him. And then anger. His eyes traveled to Richard who was silent with disappointment. 

Richard was disappointed in John.  _ John Lennon, the one who always messes things up _ .  _ John Lennon who’s only managed to keep two friends since high school _ .  _ John Lennon who hasn’t dated anyone for more than a few months because of his terrible attitude and careless air _ . John was quick to shake those thoughts away. Tonight was not meant for him to cry over his mess of a life with a beer to accompany him. Tonight was for Paul. Hopefully get him back because everytime his eyes accidentally traveled over to behind the bar, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered like it was the first day of spring. Paul wasn’t even doing anything to make John fall head over heels with every glance. He was just leaning on the counter, playing around with his friends.  _ God, of course Paul has more friends _ . __

“You’re telling me that the only reason he stayed away was because you decided to insult him and I  _ yelled  _ at him for it?” George asked, a frown settling on his lips. 

Solemnly, John nodded. He avoided Richard and George’s shocked gazes and let his eyes wander about the pub. It was small, a little cramped, but there was still a stage where a group was entertaining. There was no one watching but they still continued to pump out all their excitement onto their guitar strings. Each bang of the drums seemed to raise the spirits of the boys. They were acting like they were playing a full concert, when only it was 6 men mindlessly sipping at drinks and talking in hushed voices while the three employees played like children. 

The sound of their playing reminded Richard of how they sounded right when they were fresh out of high school. The three had developed nice technique and playing style, but before they knew it, they were all off to college and their dreams of becoming great rockstars had been forgotten. Of course, now was not the time to reminisce on the old days when they were still teens and didn’t have to worry about paying rent or getting a real, serious job and not just some barely minimum wage paying summer job at the gas station.

Richard rather liked Paul. He could laugh and joke with the group as if he’d been right there alongside them all during high school. He had a nice taste in music, as well. Richard had even had plans to ask Paul to come to the art museum where he worked in the more suburban part of the city where he worked for a little tour. Not as in a date, but more of a friendly walk about while they talked for a bit. That way, Richard could grow his friendship with Paul while pretending to look busy  _ and  _ get paid for it. 

He was a little put down when Paul began to blow them off. Or rather, when he suddenly disappeared from their lives. He was never sure if he was more worried about Paul or disappointed that he no longer enjoyed being around them enough to completely avoid the entire street where the cafe stood. But now he knew that he couldn’t even blame the poor guy. 

George couldn’t decide what to do first. Should he be angry at John or continue listening to try and figure out the sense in what John had done? Or should he let guilt wash over him for what he’d done to Paul? Surely Paul would want anything more than to stick around with John and George now. Who knows what Paul thought of Richard too. He hadn’t yelled in his face but John  _ did _ say that the group’s friendship was just to try to “help” him. Richard was apart of that group. 

George also knew that Paul didn’t know any better than to trust John. He hadn’t been with them since they were teenagers. He didn’t go through Julia’s death and John’s downfall like the rest of them did. He didn’t understand that most of the harsh things John would say in the moment didn’t mean anything and they were just stupid words that spewed out of his stupid mouth. 

Still, words can hurt. 

Anyway, John continued. “Well, after that, he didn’t want to see us for a while-”

“Yeah, no wonder.” George rolled his eyes. When they weren’t on John, George was looking over at Paul who didn’t seem to sense the staring as he was still giggling with his friends while they opened a box of treats. He couldn’t help but smile when an older man came out from the back and snatched their snack away and gestured for them to get back to work when really, there was nothing to be done. He was snapped back to the conversation when Richard spoke, trying to get some sense into the chaotic man next to him. 

“Geo, just let ‘im finish, yeah?” 

The nickname seemed to ground him enough to keep him interrupting John as he went on. “So, today, he decided to come and play. I have no idea why, but I guess he just didn’t know about the weather. Anyway, I apologized and he tried to leave but  _ then _ he started crying and sat in my _ lap  _ for like an hour and a half. Then, he just completely friendzoned me!” John had always been known for his terrible story telling skills. He just wanted to skip all the details and get tot the point. And the main points were as follows: John insulted Paul, causing Paul to stay away for weeks. Then out of nowhere, he reappears in the rain and John drags him into the cafe to apologize but ends up making Paul cry. Then they got intimate only for John to be disappointed by the end of the day. 

Friendzoned.

“What do ya mean ‘friendzoned’. You didn’t do anything to make him think you were trying to do anything more than just be friends, did you?” Richard asked, his brow quirked with curiosity.

“No! I just-”

George was quick to cut in before John could finish. “Well, you did let him sit in your lap..” His eyes carefully wandered back to Paul, as if something might change the next time he looked over. Nothing changed. Paul and his other,  _ better _ friends were still acting like children while their boss tried to get them in line. 

“So? He was crying!” John raised his voice just a bit as if that’d get his point across any better. But suddenly, time seemed to stop in that moment. The other guests turned away from the bar to see John with his hands frozen in the air. George stared at him with wide eyes while Richard took a glance over at Paul and the other employees, all of which were looking on at John.

Paul knew John’s outburst was probably about him. He knew he’d occupied most of John’s day and for most of that time, he sobbed into John’s shoulder. He felt a nudge on his shoulder and when he looked up, there was Stuart, asking if he was alright. He must have noticed the color in his cheeks drain away. Paul dismissed the question with a simple nod. 

Moments later, John’s arms were back on the table and his face was turned down to avoid any stares or looks from the others in the pub. Paul had turned back and continued his tidying up, ignoring the playful pushes from his friends. He was officially out of the playful mood. It was done. All he was left with were thoughts about how John had probably gone out with Richard and George just to discuss the embarrassing main event of the day. 

“You don’t think it’s too late to leave, do you?” Richard muttered to George. 

George brought his wrist just and checked his little watch, only to see that they’d barely been there for more than a half hour. At this point, they could make a fool of themselves and leave for John’s sake or stick around just for a while longer and order something.

After what’s just happened, Richard and George went for the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i just SUCK a dialogue lmao  
> anyway, sorry about the long wait (again). the quality of this chapter is trash :)
> 
> anyway, i've been meaning to put this in the notes of chapters again but i always forget. my instagram is bb.its.u where i post updates on when chapters will be coming out and such. also you get to see my AMAZING content ;)
> 
> also, one last thing, i LOVE interacting with my readers and 99.9% of the time reply to comments, so keep sending those because i love reading them and writing back 
> 
> alright, bye for now! <3


	11. ...i wake up early in the morning...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> george is a drunken mess

The night went by faster than expected when George, ever the lightweight, was drunk off his axis and Richard was a bit pink in the face. John took it upon himself to gather his friends and usher them out the door before more drinks could be bought or anything with Paul might occur. 

John nodded at the men standing behind the bar, earning two sets of eyes glaring at him and a nervous wave from the other man. Quickly, he averted his gaze from the trio back to his two friends who were flirting terribly. If looks could kill, John would have dropped dead right in the middle of the bar with just a glance at those cold looks from Paul’s friends. 

It felt a bit odd as John stepped out with George and Richard. He and George were usually the ones being escorted away from the bar, George being easily inebriated and John unknowing of how to control his drinking. Once he started, it was usually hard to stop. But tonight, he chose to wallow in his misery alone and purely raw. No pills or drinks to soften the blow. He wanted it to take him and eat him up because, really, he deserved it. After George’s yelling and his little outburst, he was sure he’d lost Paul McCartney for good. 

*****

With a bit of water to wash it all away, Richard was clean of the few drinks he had within the last hour or so. All he had to do was deal with George until he fell asleep. His attempts at getting his roommate to go to sleep on his own had failed miserably, so he figured he’d just wait for him to lose all his energy and pass out that way.

Richard hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help but eye the younger man in his drunken state. The only time he ever got to really get a good look at the wonderful George Harrison was when he was under influence and vulnerable. But if he put it that way, he sounded like a total pervert. 

It wasn’t normal. He knew that. To know exactly when he could stare at George all he wanted and the younger wouldn’t notice a thing. Surely, he wasn’t “in love” with George. He simply just found that he was attractive. And attractive, he was, with his slender frame and defined jaw. His perfectly carved cheekbones and smokey eyes, complemented by bushy eyebrows. Still, it’s normal to find friends attractive. It’s good to hype up their appearance and make them feel good. 

Of course, appearance isn’t everything either. Richard liked a lot of things about George. His habits were undeniably annoying, but cute as well. Richard could listen to George’s darling laugh all day. Sadly, a nice good laugh from George didn’t come out to play at home very often. George liked his quiet at home and pulled in on himself when he was alone. But while he was out, his more extroverted side was never absent. And to Richard, friends can find their friends personality to be great. Personality is one of the reasons to become friends with someone, isn’t it? 

If his mad attraction to his roommate wasn’t enough of a sign, anyone with half a brain would think that, on the rare occasion, when George’s face popped up for Richard on dating apps, he would make an effort to  _ try _ to match with George. But no, when George’s profile came up, his heart would start beating quickly and the butterflies were let loose in his stomach, free to flutter about and tickle him until an embarrassed smile grew and his face was flushed pink. He always swiped the app away completely, claiming was it stupid. How could it possibly know anything? It’s just a dumb robot, anyway. Still, he always went back to it with a tiny little voice in the back of his mind wishing, hoping that George would show up again.

Of course, Richard didn’t want to accidentally match with George and have to have  _ that  _ awkward conversation. The one where George would start some tea and sit then both down at the coffee table and try to let Richard down easy. 

When Richard thought of the future, he didn’t see himself showering George with love and affection, no matter how much the little voice in the back of his mind told him that that was how it was meant to be. Instead, he saw himself as someone like Taylor Swift in  _ Speak Now _ . He’d be sitting in the pews of a nice church, watching George beam at a man taller than him,  _ there’s a silence _ . A man more attractive than Richard,  _ there’s my last chance _ . He’ll see the preacher’s lips move but he can’t hear anything,  _ I stand up with shaking hands _ . Everyone turns to look at the objection,  _ all eyes on me— horrified looks from everyone in the room, but I’m only looking at you.  _ Of course, that’s just a silly idea. Something that would never happen. He’d never have the courage to stand up and stop the wedding. Richard was sure that if George found a guy, he’d be good for George and Richard wouldn’t have the guts to keep George away from a good guy. 

Really though, Richard should’ve been focusing on the now more than the future, because for now, George was here in front of Richard, with his lips smashed against Richard’s in a sloppy, alcohol tasting kiss. 

The kiss tasted sickeningly sweet to Richard, George always liked that sweet fruity stuff with a sugar rim. Bitter things made him frown. 

Time seemed to move too fast for anything to really be comprehended. Richard sat frozen, his eyes wide while George pressed his lips even harder to Richard’s as if it would make the other start reacting. Their noses pressed together, George’s breath hard and fast against Richard’s skin. Richard knew that in George’s world, the sexual tension was thick and high. In whatever drunken bliss he was in, things were really heating up. But for Richard, this was terribly embarrassing. 

“C’mon, Rings, Ringsy. Please, for Georgie. Geo all for you.” George’s words slurred against Ringo’s lips. Finally his reflexes decided to kick in and Richard pushed George off his lap and back onto the couch. Whatever that was, it wasn’t real. And it felt so _ very _ wrong to Richard.

*****

Richard made sure to set an earlier alarm for the morning so he could get out of the apartment and off to work surely before George was awake. In the back of his mind, he was wanting to help George with the vomit and pounding headache that was sure to come in the morning. But after whatever kind of kiss that happened the night before, he wasn’t sure he wanted to face George just yet. He still needed to process what happened. It obviously meant nothing, Richard knew. It was just a drunken impulse. 

Richard had dreamed of a first kiss with George before, something he told himself was wrong and never let the thought cross his mind again. They were just friends, and that was all. But, if their lips ever did touch on purpose, Richie thought it’d be sweet. Something soft and chaste maybe on a picnic or on the beach. 

_ That _ kiss was nothing of the sort. Instead, it tasted like alcohol and heavy inebriation. It was so vivid to Richard, yet somehow it was slow and heavy behind his eyes. If he thought about it enough, he could trick himself into feeling his lips tingle with George’s warm touch. Quickly, Richard banished the thought and lifted his fingers to his lips to massage the feeling away. 

Not long after Richard had left for work, George was pulled out of his sleep by the morning sun streaming through the blinds. As soon as his eyes opened, he wished he’d never woken up thanks to the headache pounding against the inside of his head and the nausea that hit him like a freight train. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is super short, but i just wanted to get something out. i really haven't been too motivated to post anything. i have tons of ideas for this story and one shots and other projects as well but when it comes to writing them i start feeling lazy. anyway, no paul and john today, sorry! just advancing in george and ringo's troubles ;)
> 
> this chapter is a mess hashkaksks


	12. hey y’all

hiii  
okay so basically i haven’t worked on this since june— i think i’m gonna rewrite it and post that later on  
for now, i’ll keep this up since i’ll be using about the same plot and all

so, until then, bye!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading the first chapter!
> 
> how does george react to ringo's terribly flirtatious move? what's with paul playing on the street all the time? do john and music man paul ever cross paths? find out in the next chapter ;)
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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